


Unity Day

by GoldScribbles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldScribbles/pseuds/GoldScribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: United we stand, divided we fall. During the war, Hermione goes undercover and Draco plays a double agent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unity Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin from the TV series, The 100.
> 
> They were part of the 100 delinquent kids sent to earth from the space station, the Ark, in order to find out if it was survivable again after a nuclear war made the planet uninhabitable for nearly a century. They come from different social standings. Clarke is the daughter of the Chief Medical Director and Council member on the Ark. Bellamy was a Guard Cadet before being demoted to a janitor after news broke out that his mother had a second child, which was illegal due to limited resources on the Ark. His mother is executed and his sister is imprisoned. On Earth, these two assumed leadership positions over the rest of the delinquents and clashed often. They are eventually forced to work together when enemies and disease threaten everyone's lives. They develop a deep trust for each other and rely on one another to do what good leaders do best: protect their people. 
> 
> My story is loosely based on the Season Two story line of the Mountain Men - specifically the finale scene between Bellamy and Clarke (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFSW9q5qPcE). The two line summary is that the Mountain men are people living deep inside Mount Weather because they have no immunity to the earth's radiation and can't survive on the ground. When they capture 48 delinquents, they believe that their cure lies in the children's bone marrow.
> 
> Thank you to malachaibennett for your help with this story.

**xxx**

Harry, Ron and Hermione sit at the wooden table, each one gripping chipped, mismatched mugs filled with hot tea to stave off the cold. Two other mugs sit steaming on the table. They keep their eyes on a book lying in front of the smoldering fireplace.

“Are you sure they said tonight?” Ron asks.

“Of course I am,” Hermione snaps.

“Well they’re late so either you read the message wrong or—”

The air in the room warps as the book floats up. A blinding light flares through the small cabin. When it fades, the book falls to the floor at the feet of two tall boys in expensive black robes. 

Hermione raises an eyebrow at Ron. 

“They’re still late,” he grumbles into his tea.

“Glad to know you’re all getting along as usual,” Theo says, running a hand through his dark brown hair. “I see you’ve found proper housing this time. I expected the tent.”

“It’s only for the night,” Hermione explains. “We’re moving on at sunrise.”

“Have some tea,” Harry offers, gesturing to the untouched mugs.

“Thank you,” Draco says, the words still awkward on his tongue. Theo and Draco take a swig, and barely manage to suppress a shudder. 

Theo looks around the room. “I don’t suppose there’s a tin of sugar hidden somewhere, is there?” Ron gives him a pointed stare, to which he shrugs. “I’ll make do. It’s not the worst thing I've tasted. How is the secret mission going?”

“We’re following a lead,” Harry says vaguely. 

“Chasing your tail doesn’t count, Potter.”

“Any news from Hogwarts?” Hermione interjects, directing a silencing glare at Theo who promptly ignores it. 

“Neville, Ginny, and Luna are making due with the restrictions placed on the castle. You’ll be pleased to know your little army hasn’t been sniffed out just yet. In fact, membership has been growing.” 

“Do you think that’s what I want?” Harry explodes, banging a fist on the table. “That I’m pleased how everyone is trapped in the castle, trying to fend off Voldemort’s control because of _me?_ ”

White-noise silence descends over them. 

“Hand it over, Harry.” Hermione’s tone leaves no room for argument.

Harry looks ready to protest, but he begrudgingly takes it off and places it in her hand. Immediately, his demeanor changes and he looks away, shamefaced.

“Better?” she asks.

He nods, rubbing the scar on his forehead.

“What is that little trinket?” Theo asks curiously. 

Hermione pockets it immediately. “Nothing.”

Ron shrugs. “Just us chasing our tails.” 

“I’m glad that everyone’s still okay though,” Harry says wearily.

Theo’s eyes cut to Draco’s silent form. “Not for long.”

“Students have been vanishing from the castle. Muggleborns specifically,” Draco explains, pulling out a list of names. “Theo and I have made small inquiries where we could. They’re extracting them from Hogwarts under the blind eye of the Ministry.”

Ron, Hermione and Harry lean in, huddled together to study the list. 

“There’s over thirty names here,” Hermione whispers in disbelief.

“Harper McIntyre? _Miller?_ ” Ron reads aloud, disbelief coloring his voice. 

“Do we know where they’re taking them?” Harry asks urgently.

“Off school grounds. A sixth year managed to return. Luna spoke to him once he had calmed down but all he could say was that there was a lot of fog where they went.”

“Forbidden forest?” Ron suggests.

“Possible, but with all the creatures and Death Eaters patrolling that area, we can’t risk—” Theo hisses, grabbing his forearm. “Looks like I’m being summoned,” he jokes weakly, averting his gaze from the others. “I have to go. Can’t keep the Dark Lord waiting.”

“You can say his name, you know,” Harry says quietly. “Voldemort.” Draco and Theo flinch at the sound. “A nightmare doesn't stop being one just because you call it a bad dream.”

“What can I say?” Theo shrugs with a sardonic grin. “It’s a family habit.” 

He turns to Draco and they both walk out of the cabin. After a moment’s hesitation, Hermione follows. The winter air strikes her the moment she steps outside, leeching away all the warmth in her body like a dementor. The boys are standing off to the side of the entrance. 

Theo’s eyes flicker over to her, before focusing back on his friend. “I’ll see you back at school.”

“Take a five-jump trail, just in case you’re being traced.”

Theo slants a glare at him. “I’m not a first year, Draco.” A loud pop shatters the quiet and he’s gone. 

Draco sighs, his breath rising in the air like smoke. 

“How are you and Theo holding up?” Hermione asks softly.

“The same as you three, I’d imagine. Maybe worse depending on the day.” He turns to face her, weariness darkening his features. He looks thinner.

She bites her lower lip. “You know what I’m going to say, what I’m going to ask, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “Of course I do. You’re so predictably _you_ , Granger. Self-righteous without an ounce of self-preservation.”

“I can find them.”

His eyes grow hard with anger. “Of course you can. You’ll find them because you’ll _be_ one of them.”

“I already am.”

“You know what I mean,” he says harshly. “A _victim_. Forty-eight students are missing, and you want to volunteer to be forty-nine. You think your photo hasn’t been plastered on every newspaper in the wizarding world? You’ll be killed on sight, _if_ you’re lucky.”

“I’ve got a small batch of polyjuice potions hidden away. All I need is some muggle girl’s hair and I’ll be ready. You know I’m the best one for the job.”

“Don’t tell me what I know.”

She rolls her eyes, but switches tactics. “Look, once I find out where they are, I’ll be able to get them out. You said it yourself. Forty-eight people vanished. Don’t you think it’s worth the risk?”

“Do you think Potter and Weasley will say yes to this?” he sneers.

She steps closer to him, refusing to back down. “I’m not asking them. I’m asking you.”

“Of course it’s not worth it. Those idiots in there would lose their minds if something happens to you. We all know you’re the reason Potter’s even survived as long as he has. You can’t take this solo mission. We’ll send in Ginny.”

“Oh, because _she_ has the temperament of a spy?” Hermione crosses her arms. “They’re targeting muggleborns. I’m the only one in our group. Trust me, I can do this.”

“This isn’t about trust. It’s about risk, and losing you is not one I’m willing to take.”

She presses her lips in a thin line. “Forget that it’s me then. I’m a random student who has the blood to be targeted and the skillset to help. One person for forty-eight. Is that a mission worth taking?”

Draco turns away from her, staring out at the desolate terrain surrounding the cabin. “It’s suicide.” 

“You don’t know that. Answer my question. If I weren’t who I am, would you sanction this operation?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps as he grinds his teeth, trying to pulverize the words she wants him to say. 

The cold quiet air stings her nose when she inhales. Hermione breathes through her mouth as she waits for his concession.

**xxx**

“This isn’t a plan. It’s suicide!” Ron seethes, pointing his finger in Draco and Hermione’s direction. “You’re the brightest witch of our age. How could you be so dim as to come to the conclusion that being a sacrificial lamb is the answer to all of this?”

The fireplace erupts into large, blue flames. “Call me stupid again. I _dare_ you.”

“This is a _bad_ plan!” Ron turns to Harry. “Tell her.”

“It’s too dangerous for you to do this alone, Hermione,” Harry implores. 

“Everything we do is too dangerous, but we still do it anyway because it’s right.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Harry’s green eyes are flushed with vulnerability, but he nods. “I need you with me, but I understand.”

The tension leaves her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Have you both gone mad?” Ron bellows, throwing his arms in the air. 

“What we need is someone on the inside to be our eyes and ears,” Hermione responds resolutely. “I’m the only one who can make it in, and you all know it. Trust me.”

“What do you think?” Harry asks Draco quietly. Sometimes it still stuns her that Harry does this now: asks for his opinion and give it the full weight of consideration. She does too, but what surprises her even more is how natural it feels to depend on him like they’ve always been friends instead of adversaries. 

Draco sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s worth the risk.”

“Of course you’d think that! You barely see her as a person!” Ron shouts, his face a mottled red.

“You’re the only one here who doubts her ability, Weasley,” Draco says icily. “Should we remove her from the field altogether to protect her from every stray wind that blows too strong? Put her in the kitchen so her only concern is whether to serve pot roast or shepherd's pie like your mum?”

“Both of you, stop it!” Hermione cuts in. “I’m going to do this with or without your approval, Ronald Weasley. That goes for you too, Harry Potter.”

Harry sighs in defeat. He pins Draco with a long, hard stare. “Keep her safe.”

“I’m not going to feed her to the werewolves, Potter.”

“I’m not sure you’ll protect her from them either.”

Draco balls his hands into fists. Not for the first time, Hermione feels as though her world has inverted itself without her knowledge. Draco Malfoy, with his lifetime of privilege and anti-muggle conditioning, believes in her more than her best friends do. Meanwhile Harry and Ron weaponize Draco’s past against him at every disagreement, proving how hard it is to overcome bad habits and first impressions. 

“ _I_ can protect myself,” she shouts, looking both disgusted and disappointed at Harry and Ron. “There’s no time for this. We’re leaving now.” She grabs Draco by the wrist and Apparates them away.

**xxx**

“A bit of warning would have been nice, Granger,” he grumbles, rubbing his temples.

She rolls her eyes. “Are you through pouting? If not, I’ll go on ahead and let you recover in silence. I’ve got a muggle to find for my spell.” 

His hand shoots out and grabs her by the forearm when she starts to walk away. Surprised, she stumbles into him when he yanks her close. “Hey! Don’t touch me like—” 

“I have some protection to offer you,” he murmurs. The sound of his words rumbles through her body. When did his voice become so deep? “But you _must_ avoid my home at all cost. Do not end up in the manor, Granger. They come and go as they please there, and I can’t protect you.” 

Hermione looks up at him, seeing the worry peeking through his solemn gray eyes. Her throat dries out. She wonders if she should close the distance between them—whether with a hug or with more, for him or for her—but instead lays her hand over his and tugs it off of her arm. 

“Understood,” she whispers. 

He nods. “Pick a ghost. We need people to believe your disguise has been at Hogwarts this whole time to not draw suspicion. Someone average in every way. Brown hair and eyes. Someone under the radar.”

“It sounds like I could just go as myself,” Hermione jokes lightly.

“You—” Draco cuts off, looking away before bringing those wintry eyes back on her. “You are anything but forgettable.”

**xxx**

As an imposter, Hermione walks around Hogwarts in jeans and a sweater with a logo on it. Wizarding garments bear no brands. While no one recognizes her as Hermione Granger, eyes gliding easily over her borrowed features, her clothes draw in everyone’s gaze like a magnet.

A group of ravenclaws swallows her into its fold, hiding her from view. She tries to escape, but they band together tightly, all the while berating her with urgent whispers of, “Are you _daft?_ How could you walk about like this? Don’t you know what’s happening?”

Hermione claims to be a hufflepuff and is promptly escorted to the basement. A first-year boy taps the barrels with his wand and a large barrel lid pops open.

“Go on then,” he orders impatiently.

“How did you know…?”

A third-year girl sucks her teeth. “How have you survived this long?” 

“Watch your mouth,” snarls a seventh-year girl, before turning to Hermione. “We all know how to get into each other’s common rooms. If you ever need help, the answer to the riddle guarding our entrance this week is chocolate cake.” 

Hermione nods. “That sounds like something we would use. You know, if hufflepuffs actually used passwords,” she quips.

The group shoots her a collective look of disbelief and exasperation. Several shake their heads. Left with no other option, she crawls through the barrel and waits for them to leave before heading out again.

This time, she wanders around the dungeons, making as much noise as possible to draw attention. 

Blaise Zabini finds her. 

He looks down at her with his typical blend of boredom and judgment, his silver and green prefect badge stark against his black robes. 

“You deserve to be snatched up,” he says flatly, pulling out his wand. Distantly, Hermione hears footsteps approaching. She suppresses her instincts to fight, knowing that she could overpower him. This is the mission. Capture and release. 

Blaise points his wand at her “ _Silencio._ ” With a quick wave of his hand and another spell from his lips, her clothes transform into an outrageously colored dress full of frills and lace. When a group of slytherins turns the corner and catches sight of them, they all burst out laughing.

“Blaise, what is this creature?” one asks, wheezing.

“Did the other monsters in the forbidden forest drive it out because it was too ugly to live there?” jokes another. 

Blaise turns to the group, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Just having a bit of fun. Get to your rooms before I decide to include you in my games.”

The laughter turns uneasy, then dies out. They leave quickly after hurling a few more insults at Hermione.

Blaise drags her out of the dungeons and leaves her by the great hall with a whispered warning: “The adults can’t be trusted.” 

His behavior confuses her, and she stays up all night trying to understand his motives before it dawns on her. Draco never disclosed all of the slytherins who could be trusted, but mentioned that they’d be surprised by the names on the list. 

It doesn’t take long before she finds out who is disappearing muggleborns from Hogwarts. 

“My dear, what _are_ you wearing? Those clothes violate Educational Decree Number One Hundred and One.”

Headmistress Dolores Umbridge.

**xxx**

This is how forty eight students vanish from Hogwarts.

Whomever controls the school also controls the castle and all its shifting stairs and corridors. It’s easy to create a hidden path to the edge of the property. From there, it’s a march through the forbidden forest, now patrolled by Death Eaters and leashed magical creatures, into a cave hidden in the heart of the woods. Deep inside, there is an axe, its blade dulled by rust with a faded ‘M’ carved into the handle.

A portkey. 

Draco had warned her not to end up in his manor, but there’s no avoiding it now.

**xxx**

It’s sheer chance that Theo is in the manor the day after they lock her up with the other missing students, wandless and potionless. Two students have already been killed. His father brings him to the cells, wanting to show him how the Dark Lord was already cleansing Hogwarts of the unworthy, the filthy, the parasites.

Theo falters for a moment, the realization that the missing students had been here all along knocking the wind out of him, but he sneers and laughs as expected, hurling slurs and rattling the bars to spook them. He doesn’t know her disguise, but Hermione catches his attention by covering her mouth and methodically tapping out a short message against her cheekbone. She repeats it twice, nodding her head slightly when his brows furrow in confusion. When he figures it out, there’s a brief flare of panic in his eyes before he extinguishes it under the weight of his indifference.

When the Notts leave, she knows he’ll be back and quietly prepares the others for the escape.

**xxx**

At night, Theo returns alone on silent feet. As he approaches the cell, he pulls a knife out of a tiny coin pouch. Some of the students start to cry.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” he grumbles as he nicks his finger on the blade. The iron bars ripple the second his blood lands on it. The bars pull away from each other, retracting and uncrossing until it forms an opening big enough for him to enter. He puts the knife away and walks into the cell. The bars slide back in place behind him. Hermione has never seen anything like it before.

Theo catches her eyes and winks. “No paths are blocked for the pure,” he recites with an exaggerated flair. “You won’t be able to find these kinds of spells in public books, Granger. But onto more important matters.” From his pouch, he takes out a thick coil of rope. “Quickly, everyone grab a hold of this portkey. It’s going to activate in under a minute and take you somewhere safe. When you land, an order member will destroy the matching portkey and guide you from there.”

“How can we even trust you after everything you said before?” a boy asks angrily.

“Your skepticism is understandable. You are more than welcomed to stay here and see how long your luck will last.” Theo raises his eyebrow. “I didn’t think so. Hey, remember this moment, okay? Because if we both survive this war, I’m going to punch you in the face, and you should know why I did it.”

“Stop it,” Hermione scolds.

Theo rolls his eyes. “It’s a good thing you forced us to learn morse code, Granger.” 

“It’s smart of you to cast an extension charm.”

“I always aim to impress.”

When everyone is in place, hands tightly grasping the rope and moments away from escape, they hear footsteps—heels, to be sure—striking the stone floor rhythmically. A countdown to their freedom. A countdown to Theo’s death.

Hermione sees the panic consume him. He can’t be caught.

“Come with us,” she urges quietly.

He shakes his head. “If I disappear, they’re going suspect Draco. I can’t let that happen.” 

Hermione takes her hand off of the portkey. Reflexively a few people shout their protest before they can catch themselves. The silence that follows is deafening. 

And then— 

“What is going on in here?” creaks the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. The footsteps start again, beating against the floor like a racing heart.

Theo grabs her by the arm, whispering furiously, “What are you doing?”

“Saving your life!” she hisses back.

“By throwing away _yours?_ How is that a solution?”

“I won’t let you die. I’m out of polyjuice and this disguise will only hold for another hour at best. When they find out who I am, they’ll try to get information out of me. I’m more useful to them alive.”

“Granger, I swear—” 

The air warps around them. It’s too late. They’re the only ones left in the cell. 

The footsteps stop behind him. 

Chest heaving, his panicked eyes dart over her face, seeking reassurance. He won’t find any with her. She knows her features are a mirror of his.

“Theodore? What is the meaning of this?” shrieks Bellatrix.

Theo’s tall frame hides Hermione from sight. They’re both trembling. 

She mouths, _Do it. It’s okay._

His hand tightens around her arm. _I’m sorry,_ he replies, anguish creasing his face, before he flings her against the bars.

“I caught an order spy, Mrs. Lestrange. She portkeyed the others away, staying behind to prevent me from stopping them,” he snarls. Hermione hears the hatred in his tone, and while she knows it’s aimed at himself, she’s glad because it gives credibility to his alibi. 

“Well don’t just stand there! Check the portkey. We’ll trace where they went.” 

“Yes, of course.” 

They both know it’s futile.The spell’s been removed on the other side. It’s just a rope now. 

Long, bony fingers close around her neck like a bite. “You’re going to regret this,” Bellatrix hisses.

Hermione’s jaw tightens from the pressure, but manages to say with only a little breathlessness, “I am not afraid.”

Bellatrix cackles gleefully.

**xxx**

Draco had said he couldn’t protect her in his home.

Hermione had said she understood.

But when the potion wears off, she doesn’t realize he would be an audience to the nightmare. 

He’s there when they strike her with enough cruciatus curses to vomit over his marble floors. He’s there when they break and heal her bones over and over in the course of six hours. 

He’s there when Bellatrix carves that word into her arm and lets it scar.

He’s there every day, a silent witness to all of her screams.

**xxx**

Alone and hurt in dungeons, hearing the screams of the other victims slowly fade underneath the roar of awful laughter, Hermione almost breaks.

When the doors opens, she’s sure she won’t survive this encounter. Her mind already feels detached from her body.

“Get up, Granger.”

It’s not a voice she expects to hear. The surprise is enough to anchor her to the present. “Pansy?” 

“Less talking and more moving!” she snaps.

Hermione scrambles to her feet, gritting her teeth against the pain of newly mended bones.

“I don’t understand. I thought you hated me.”

Pansy rolls her eyes, but grabs Hermione by the wrist and pulls her down a hallway. “I hate a lot of people.” She stops them, quickly casting a disillusionment charm to hide their presence just as two Death Eaters turn the corner. The girls press against the stone wall, holding still with bated breath, releasing it slowly once the immediate danger has passed. Pansy looks at her with weary hazel eyes, her dark brown hair disheveled and falling out of its ponytail. “Doesn’t mean you deserve to die like this.” 

Hermione has never seen Pansy as anything but polished and calm; the perfect pureblood slytherin who hated everything Hermione represented. To see her like this now, sweaty and scared, but risking her life for the war…

“Thank you,” she whispers with a tremor in her voice.

“I haven’t gotten us out yet. Let's go. Potter and Weasley also got snatched up while you were away. They’re being held over here.”

“Are they alright?”

Pansy shoots her an incredulous glare. “Are _you?_ Are any of us? What a stupid thing to ask.”

“Are they alive?” Hermione clarifies.

“Yes. By some miracle, you all were captured while the Dark Lord is away. Let’s hope your luck doesn’t run out just yet.”

It does, eventually, but they still manage to get out of Malfoy Manor alive.

**xxx**

When it’s over, and the bodies are counted and buried, students and adults alike slowly make their way inside the ruined castle, wanting to feel the protection Hogwarts had always offered them.

Harry joins Ron inside with the rest of the Weasleys to mourn Fred’s death. Hermione almost goes with them, but stops when she sees Draco, Theo and Pansy talking off to the side. Other people give the group a wide berth, several glaring at their direction, Draco in particular. She walks toward them instead. 

Theo is the first to see her and breaks off from the group to meet her. 

“Granger,” he greets with a relieved smile.

“Nott,” she returns. Seeing the hesitance and regret on his slumped shoulders, she doesn’t wait for him to move first and hugs him firmly, laughing a little that she manages to startle him. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she says softly.

He embraces her tightly. “Thank you,” he croaks out. Theo clears his throat when they separate. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a muggleborn to punch.”

“Theo, don’t,” Hermione admonishes.

He waves her words off as he walks away. “Don’t make me a liar, Hermione. I’m a man of my word.”

Sighing, Hermione turns in time to see Draco and Pansy hug. When she gets closer, she catches the end of their conversation.

“Take care of yourself, Draco.”

”Stand tall and chin up.”

“How else will I be able to look down my nose at everyone?” Pansy says haughtily. She looks at Hermione briefly before making her way inside. 

Hermione comes to a stop next to Draco, and they watch Pansy walk away. 

“I don’t know why I thought she’d be nicer to me when this was all over,” she muses, making Draco laugh. 

“You really don’t know her at all,” he says. The somber edge to his words draws her eyes to him.

“Come on. Let’s go grab a celebratory drink with everyone. I hear they’re even bringing out the sorting hat for a song.”

“Have one for me. I’m not going in.”

“What? Why not?”

“I don’t belong here.” The conviction in his voice stuns her.

“Of course you do! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I carry the mark. The Dark Lord was in my house, where those students were held...and I didn't know, didn't even _think_ to look there. And my parents are on trial for...” he trails off, shaking his head.

“That’s absurd. Theo is in a similar situation. Do you think everyone’s going to expel him too?”

“They might.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this. Snape had the mark too, and he became a professor.”

“He died.”

“Are you saying that you should’ve too?” she asks in disbelief.

“You almost did.” He looks at her finally, and she struck by the storm in his gray eyes. “When you didn’t appear with the other students...I thought it should’ve been me.”

She didn’t know he was the one waiting on the other side of the portkey. 

“I knew the risks. It was my decision to make. We both agreed it was worth it.”

“Well, I was wrong.”

“No you weren’t. We _saved_ them.”

He frowns, and turns away. She quickly gets in front of him. “Hey, we’re going to get through this. I don’t blame you for what you did or didn't do.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes, staring at the ground instead with his jaw clenched. He won’t be moved.

“Where are you going to go?” she asks, helpless in the face of his stubbornness.

He gives a careless shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Then I’ll go with you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“No. Seeing you everyday will just remind me of what my family did to you in my house. In my presence. What _I_ did to you. Watching you every day, bleeding and crying...” She tries to protest but he stops her. “I didn’t protect you.”

“I didn’t need your protection!” She takes a deep breath to rein in her anger. “Look. if you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven, okay? So just...just come inside. _Please._ ” 

Unexpectedly, he leans down— _when did he get so tall?_ she thinks—and kisses her on the cheek, bringing his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”

Her breath hitches, and she pleads into his dust covered robes, “Please don’t go. Stay here.”

Slowly, he untangles himself from her. “I know I’ve said it to you a hundred times before, but I’m sorry. For everything I ever said to you or believed about you that made you feel bad. For all that talk about your blood and your parents.”

“And my hair?” she says lightly, feeling her eyes well with tears.

He places his hand on the top of her head, giving her a sad smile. “I’m not sorry about that. Your hair’s always been an owl’s nest.”

“We were children, Draco. I’ve forgiven you every time you’ve apologized to me. Eventually.”

“Then maybe I just need to forgive myself, and I can’t do that here.” He looks at her one last time and says, “May we meet again.” His tone is so bleak and hollow, like he doesn’t believe it. 

“We will,” she says adamantly. 

He turns and walks away, his tattered robes slipping through her fingers.

**xxx**

Months later, Draco is drinking tea in a cafe in muggle London, staring out at the busy streets. Adjusting to life without magic was difficult at first, but he makes due. He discovers that he’s fairly good at mixing drinks, and gets a job at a restaurant bar. Women frequently chat him up, humoring him by explaining things like football and cellphones. They think he’s trying to charm them into his bed, and he doesn’t correct them.

During the day, he spends a lot of time people watching in public spaces. It reminds him a lot of life back home, how muggles gossip in groups and argue quietly in couples. If he blocks out the strange transportation devices— _cars_ and _buses_ and _light rails_ —he can almost picture himself in Hogsmeade, or in one of the shopping centers Pansy often dragged him and Blaise to the summer they spent together abroad. The memory makes him homesick for a place he’s sure will never welcome him again. After all this time, the ache still hasn’t eased. 

Someone takes the empty seat across from him. He looks up, prepared to glare the presumptuous stranger away. 

Hermione. Her sudden presence stuns him.

“Look at you now, in a muggle shop,” she teases with her familiar grin. 

Seeing her untangles a knot in his chest, easing a tension he thought would never loosen. After a few moments pass, he reaches his hand across the table for hers. She gives it without hesitation. The moment they touch, the ever-present ache inside him fades into a distant memory. 

“I’m full of surprises,” he quips softly, tangling their fingers. 

After all this time, she’s the one who brings him home.

  
**xxx**

_And never since the founders four_  
_Were whittled down to three_  
_Have the Houses been united_  
_As they once were meant to be_  
\- The Sorting Hat's song in _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_  



End file.
